


Why do you refuse to believe?

by amarillogrande



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Castiel, Dean's Birthday, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, First Time, Human Castiel, Love Confessions, M/M, Season 9 AU, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarillogrande/pseuds/amarillogrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something I meant to post for Dean's birthday.<br/>Enjoy!</p><p>Tumblr: <a href="http://chevrolangels.tumblr.com/post/74421599421/in-honor-of-the-day-heres-a-little-thing-ive">x</a><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Why do you refuse to believe?

Dean stalks inside, slamming the door of the bunker. Cas trails after him, but Dean doesn’t look back. They get to their room and Dean throws his pack into the corner, still fuming. Cas closes the door quietly behind them. Dean can feel him hovering, not really sure what to say.

They stand at odds for a moment, both silent.

“Dean—“

He whirls on him.

“What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

Cas wilts. “Dean—“  
Dean reels.

“No. _No_ —don’t try and fucking apologize—”’

He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the need to break something.

“You don’t go off like that,” he snaps. Cas just looks down at his shoes, twisting his hands. God, it’s like scolding a fucking five-year-old.

“You stick with me, okay?” He spits. “You stick with me, and you don’t do stupid things that’ll get you killed by some punk-ass demon.”

He doesn’t really know why he’s so angry. It’s actually kind of scaring him, how he’s reacting. But this was one of the first hunts, one of the first times Cas had been in danger, and the first time since they’d been…

Fuck. Since Dean had gotten his head out of his ass and realized what it would mean—really mean—to lose Cas. He had watched Cas die so many times before, but he had never really understood. What it meant. Maybe he even took it for granted that Cas would always come back.

But he wasn’t a fucking angel anymore. He wasn’t—he was human—and if he died…he wouldn’t come back. Ever.

And that freaks Dean out.

Part of him knows he’s being ridiculous, he’s being downright insane, but he can’t help it. He just needs to hit something.

He settles for clearing everything off his desk with a violent shove, feeling a brief vengeful satisfaction as he hears the crash and sees Cas’s flinch out of the corner of his eye. He whirls and they stand there, staring at each other, breathing heavily.

Cas is looking at him with those eyes.

“Dean.”

And he doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline or the fear of almost losing him or who the fuck knows, but suddenly he’s shoving Cas up against the wall, folding into him as they press into one another, Cas’s mouth hot and fragile against his. Dean hisses at him in between kisses, his hands searching for the buttons on his shirt. He just needs to feel Cas's hands on him, right now.

“Don’t you do that to me—“ he growls. “Don’t you ever do that again—”

Cas is fumbling, rocking underneath his touch, his hands finding his belt buckle. “No, Dean, no, I won’t—“

His hand slides over his cock and Dean inhales sharply, dragging him closer.

“Don’t you ever—“

Cas kisses him hard, gripping him tight. “Dean—you talk too much.”

He gasps, thrusts up into him as Cas’s other hand circles his back and dips beneath the edge of his jeans, pressing into him.

Dean is panting. “I’m still—fucking mad at you. Don’t think this—”

Cas shuts him up with kisses. They’re hard and angry. Dean hates him, he hates this, that Cas is no longer invincible, he’s got pathetic human skin that can tear and rip and die now—and Dean doesn’t want—

“Don’t—“

Cas is holding him, kissing away his tears, when did they become tears?

“Dean,” he whispers against his skin. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

Dean gasps, forehead falling against his shoulder, holding him as tight as he possibly can.

“Cas,” he chokes out. “You’re human—you can’t do these things anymore, you gotta—" He stutters, breathing hard.

"Don’t make me lose you.”

He sinks into him, mumbling incoherently. “Don’t leave me. You always leave, I can’t—Please. Don’t ever leave me.”

Cas kisses his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips where salty tears have dripped down, mingling with the saliva left by Cas’s mouth, they’re a fucking mess, but Cas kisses him anyway.

“I won’t. I won’t.” He strokes his cheek, finding his lips. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Cas holds him. The fire that had been blazing inside of Dean has gone out, it’s drained away, leaving behind a kind of hollow emptiness. But he's still aware of Cas touching him, conscious of every inch of their bodies pressed together, and the burn returns, smoldering again.

He has to tear himself away from Cas’s arms, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. He was having a fucking meltdown, and Cas was apologizing to _him_.

Dean rubs his cheeks, then lets out a bitter laugh as he holds his head in his hands.

He was just so unbelievably…good.

“Godammit, Cas.” He says the only thing he can think of. “Fuck you.”

Cas’s voice is quiet. “I want you to.”

Dean snaps his head up. He isn’t sure he heard him right. “What?”

Cas’s gaze is clear, unchanging. “I want you to.”

Dean stares. Cas kneels down, taking his hands in his own. His voice is barely a whisper now. “That’s the word, isn’t it?”

Dean feels the heat blossom in his chest again, but he shoves it down because, no, it’s not right, that’s not right, Cas doesn’t say shit like that.

“Is that—is that what you think this is?” He wants to shove the stupid angel off of him, but he can’t. Because it’s Cas. It’s always been Cas. He’s just as addicted to him now as he is to air, he can’t breathe without him, can’t ever think of the world without him.

“Fucking, no, Cas, it’s not—" He struggles for words. "It’s not like that. It was never like that.”

Cas tilts his head, eyes pleading. “I don’t understand.”

Dean doesn’t know how to say it.

"I don’t ever want to fuck you.”

Cas looks down, and Dean’s heart drops. Shit—that’s not what he—no, he has to make him understand—

Dean grabs his face, forcing those blue eyes onto him.

“No, Cas—I—I want to love you, I want to _make_ love to you—I—"

He pulls him close, trying to feel him, as much as he can.

"I don’t want you for just your body, Cas. I want you _—_ I just want you.”

Dean is trembling. Cas reaches up, taking him in his arms.

“Dean,” he whispers.

He's shaking his head, refusing to open his eyes. “Cas, shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Dean. Please.”

Dean can’t believe he fucking split open like that, that he’s now this mess bawling into Cas’s lap.

Shit. This was what he knew had always been coming. He had deluded himself into believing this was going to work for a while, but it was finally happening. Cas was seeing him now, seeing him at his very worst, and no one but Sam had ever seen that and stayed. He’s expecting Cas to go running off into the sunset any moment, because Dean’s a basket case and Cas doesn’t need to deal with his shit.

They shouldn’t have done this. It could never have worked.

But Cas is still holding him, and Dean unconsciously clutches at his soft shirt, the buttons hanging loosely, almost torn off from Dean’s desperate struggles earlier. Cas gently cradles the back of his neck, lifting his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“Dean.”

His voice is like a prayer, fervently whispered in the dead of night, a desperate plea to something you can’t quite see or touch or taste, but something you believe in completely, without really being able to explain why.

Cas’s hands caress his face, his arms, his back. Castiel lays him down easy on the pillows, hovering over him, trying to get him to see him, really see him. He didn’t understand why Dean always had to be so strong. Why couldn’t he let him be the strong one? Why couldn’t he let him be his strength?

His voice is raw, desperate as he brings his lips to Dean’s ear.

“Dean. Touch me,” he shudders out in a ruined whisper. “Dean. Please.”

And Dean has to. He has to feel every inch of him, but he’s still so broken, he’s so damaged, he doesn’t think he can touch Cas without breaking him into a million pieces, because that’s what he does, isn’t it. Break everything he’s ever loved? But Cas doesn’t seem to care. Perhaps he’d rather be with him and broken together, instead of whole and apart.

Cas guides his hand back his hips, pressing their lips together. He touches him soft, waiting until Dean stops shaking, until he responds, kissing him hard, roughly tearing the shirt off over his head.

Cas settles on top of him and Dean reaches up, holding him close as they kiss, and he runs his palms over the place Cas’s wings would be, if he still had them. He shrugs his own shirt off, resenting even the few seconds he has to leave Cas’s mouth to do so. He shifts on his back to work his jeans off, Cas helping until Dean lies naked beneath him. Cas sits up briefly to remove his own, struggling with the zipper as Dean tries to feel every inch of him. Cas finally lies back down on top of him, completely naked together—for the first time, and Dean shudders out a gasp.

But Cas is at his ear, crooning nonsense, teeth gently tugging at his earlobe as he slowly rocks back and forth, friction building the heat in his groin. Dean feels himself leaking over their stomachs, and they’re glued together with pre-come and sweat and spit and it’s so fucking hot but he’s so scared he’ll never feel this again, that any second something will go wrong, that he’ll wake up.

“Can you—“

Dean kisses him, nodding desperately. He reluctantly tears himself away, fumbling with his bedside drawer. Cas runs a hand down his thigh, brushing those long fingers along his calf muscle as Dean fights with the drawer beside his bed, and when he finally turns back to him, Cas can only smile.

Dean puts a gentle hand to his shoulder, pushing him back.

“Just relax, okay?”

Cas nods and settles back against the bed as Dean strokes his stomach, laying his hips out flat.

Dean slicks up his fingers and dips into him, clutching at the muscle and skin in front of him. Cas sucks in a short breath and he panics momentarily.

“Shit, Cas, are you—“

“Dean.” He rocks up at the touch, roiling back and forth, his hand scrabbling, finding a hold in the sheets beneath him.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Cas grabs his neck and pulls him in for a short kiss, arching back as Dean crooks the second finger up into him.

“Please, just—oh—“

Dean works his way into him slowly, and Cas finds his lips again, only breaking apart to catch his breath, eyes closed, pressing their foreheads together. Dean kisses every part of his beautiful face.

Cas’s hand finds his arm, digging into his skin as he breathes even and deep, opening under Dean’s touch. He can barely keep it together as Cas moves with him. He can feel his heartbeat in his lungs. He can taste his soul on his tongue.

Dean finally finds the courage to speak.

“You ready?” he whispers hoarsely, and Cas just nods again, not daring to open his eyes. He sits up, climbs on top of him and braces himself, fingers pressing hard into Dean’s skin, leaving brief marks that turn white and disappear. He guides himself onto Dean’s cock, his eyelashes fluttering as he slides down, settling into him.

Dean’s heart is pounding.

“Cas, _Cas—_ “

But then Cas starts moving and Dean bucks up with a cry, seizing his hand.

They can’t quite get it at first—it’s sloppy and uncoordinated—but when they settle into a rhythm, it's unbelievable—it’s the hottest fucking thing Dean’s ever done in his life, and he doesn’t think he’s going to last—

But he rocks up into him, Cas matching him with every thrust. He leans down, his arms cradling around Dean’s head as he kisses his throat, leaving burning trails on his skin. There’s barely an inch between them as they heave on the bed together, Cas’s breath coming in hard stuttering gasps.

Their moans and breathing is the only thing that fills the air in the room, but Dean wants to hear him, wants to hear that deep voice that’s haunted his dreams for years—he wants it to fill him, to consume him, to eat him whole.

“Cas, Cas, baby, talk to me. Cas, please—“

“Dean.” Cas doesn’t look like he has the capacity for words, he’s struggling to keep himself together as he rides on top of Dean, throwing his head back involuntarily. “I—I can’t—“

“You gotta let go, you can trust me." Dean fumbles, tugging at his wrists. "Let go, Cas, let go.”

Cas brings his hands back down to the bed, bracing himself, hunched over Dean, eyes closed. Dean wants to look into those eyes, he wants to see him, he wants to see.

“Cas, look at me," he whispers, softly touching his cheek. 

Cas's eyes open, flashing him with blue. “Dean.” He pants. “I trust you.”

Dean’s face is wet with tears again. God, it was horrible, it was fucking embarrassing, but Cas on top of him makes him want to die and weep and split open and he can’t bring himself to care.

Dean doesn’t even know he’s saying after a while, he’s just blurting everything that comes to his mind, he can’t fucking keep it together.

“Why do you let me do this to you—“

He has to be hurting him, just by existing, just by living, all of the things he’s ever done to Cas, all the shit he’s put him through. He doesn’t understand why he keeps coming back, how he ever ended up on top of him, bright and beautiful and perfect.

“Cas, I—I don’t understand, I’m nothing, I’m not worth it—I’m not anything—“

Cas pins Dean to the bed so suddenly and forcefully that his heart skips a beat, his throat clenching in fear.

“Dean Winchester.” He doesn’t stop his movements on top of him, but he bends down low, fixing him with a deep glare. The tax-accountant exterior made Dean forget sometimes, made him forget that Cas was all angel, the rules and experiences of Heaven in his head. Shit, he was probably eons old, and all of that strength and power was focused on him. And that scared Dean to death. There was a hurricane behind those eyes. He was lightning in a bottle.

Castiel is not fucking around. “Why do you refuse to believe that I love you?”

Dean’s mind seizes on the word and freezes up. That was a bad word to get into, no, no, too much baggage, too much everything. He thinks it’s the first time Cas has ever said it. Who was he kidding, he knows this is the first time. And he’s royally fucking it up by not saying anything back.

“Cas, I—“

“Shut up,” Cas growls, but it’s tender, affectionate. He leans down again and kisses him fiercely, and Dean just falls into it, sinking slowly into him. Maybe Cas didn’t need to hear it. Because he already knows. Oh, he knows.

Cas wipes away his tears and kisses him again, but then he seizes Dean by the shoulders, rolls under him, and he grips tight onto his back as Dean fits like a puzzle piece in between his legs. Dean hitches an arm under Cas’s leg, hooks it over his hip, pushing in deeper. Cas is digging his fingernails into his back so deep he thinks he’s going to draw blood, but Dean doesn’t fucking care. He wants to feel everything absolutely, as much as he can, and he doesn’t care if it hurts or tears him apart. Dean just needs him so bad.

He doesn’t think he can even control himself any more, he just wants to take him apart, he wants them to spend the rest of their lives this way, and the way Castiel looks right now makes Dean think he’d be on board.

Dean brings his hand to rest in Cas’s dark hair as he kisses him again. Cas grabs his face, staring up into his eyes.

“I will never leave you.”

Dean can’t say anything, he doesn’t think his voice even works anymore. He just kisses him, trying to put everything he can never say into that kiss.

Shit, he’s close, he’s so close, he thinks he’s going to die, but Cas beats him to it, digging his fingers into his neck, mouth straining in a silent cry. Dean follows him over the edge, they’re falling together, but Cas is there to catch him.

His eyes are closed, his muscles don’t work. Cas is pressing soft kisses into his neck, but Dean can’t move. He wants to stay here forever, trapped in this high, this rush, the feel of Cas’s body against his, his lightning burning through his veins.

“Dean,” he murmurs, hands finding his face. “Dean.”

He says it like it’s the most important word he’s ever known, and it’s too much. It’s all too much. He just lets Cas pull him into his arms, burrows deeper into him, and lets his soft hands carry him away into sleep.

And when they wake up the next morning and find themselves tangled up in each other, they don’t even try to stop it, they start all over again, making love into the afternoon, until Sam pounds on the door, telling them lunch isn’t going to eat itself.


End file.
